


make my heart your home

by orbitalknight



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 2k words of aymeric making heart eyes, Alcohol, Domestic Fluff-Adjacent, M/M, Partial Nudity, Reunions, yearning in various locations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28447509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbitalknight/pseuds/orbitalknight
Summary: Borel Manor sees no shortage of guests, despite its primary resident being perpetually in a state of "busy."Nonetheless, a midnight visitor is a rare one.The knocking at the door is more than the cold Coerthan wind.(set vaguely post 5.1, but spoiler-free past 3.3)
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Estinien Wyrmblood
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49





	make my heart your home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DiegoonNio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiegoonNio/gifts).



> a gift for the estimeric week discord server holiday exchange! 
> 
> this was lots of fun to write. i hope you enjoy the read just as much, if not more!

It was always dark when Aymeric awoke, but not like this. 

He was an early riser for two main reasons, although there were more: necessity being one, the moments he had to himself in the morning were some of very few he could savor amidst the numerous responsibilities he carried, the other being a soldier’s habit, unbreakable after all these years. But the dark outside his bedchamber window was not the stirring of the night just before the first trembling fingers of sunlight snuck over the horizon and heralded dawn. It made the urgency with which his manservant had roused him all the more concerning. 

“Milord,” the man insisted, “I believe it would be best were you to come to the door yourself.” 

Aymeric had acquiesced to the best of his ability in a sleep-addled state, scaring his cat off his bed in a stumbling hurry to put on something more than smallclothes before he invited his midnight guest in along with the biting cold of the Coerthan wind. Whoever this was would have to forgive him for not being in a particularly pristine state. He’d no time to fix hair, and had barely managed to get a coat on before half-jogging down the hall behind his manservant. At last they arrived at the door, and true to form, his manservant opened it. 

“Of who do I have the pleasure, at this late hour?” Aymeric squinted as the wind assaulted the uncovered parts of his skin. 

At first, the figure on the other side had his back to the interior of Borel Manor, but as soon as he turned around, a gasp escaped Aymeric’s throat. “ _Estinien?”_

Estinien seemed, quite frankly, surprised to hear his name. He shuffled about slightly, then folded his arms. “Aye.” 

Aymeric scrubbed an incredulous hand through his hair. “I… Please. Come inside.” He wasn’t sure that Estinien was waiting on an invitation, his dearest friend did not need one to be welcome, and he hoped that Estinien had not forgotten that, even given how long it had been since they had last spent time beneath this roof together. Far too long, to be sure. 

Estinien nodded and made his way with a deliberate purpose up the stairs and through the open door. Aymeric’s manservant closed it behind them. The cold of the outside persisted in the entranceway. 

“Could I trouble you to put the kettle on for tea?” So much as it pained Aymeric to tear his gaze away from Estinien, he addressed the request to his manservant, who nodded and set off down the manor hallway to the kitchen. 

And they were alone, there, the door beside them, the air heavy with questions and words unspoken. Aymeric was eager to say something, but every word fell flat on his tongue. Estinien, for his part, could not decide where to look. The line of his lips was a familiar flat line, but uncovered by his helm, Estinien’s eyes betrayed what could be an equal number of explanations. 

They were not made to suffer in silence overlong. Aymeric’s cat, having sensed visitors, came trotting down the hall, yowling a complaint as she twined herself ‘round one of Estinien’s legs. 

“Reinette,” Aymeric said, “Will the lady of the house truly not suffer to allow me some privacy with my guest?” 

Estinien knelt to let the cat sniff his hand, following which she butted her head against his knuckles. "Give the old girl a break. She missed me."

Aymeric folded his arms. "Oh, and you presume I did not?" 

Estinien stood up again, much to Reinette's distress. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it, having thought better of whatever comment he had intended on making. He settled on a "Hmph." instead. 

Aymeric took a step closer, so that if he wanted to, it would have taken minimal effort to entwine their fingers. Every ilm of Estinien's face was laid out before his eyes in clarity that only this near-intimacy could convey. "To be clear," he said, "I did miss you." 

As though he was mirroring the cat, Estinien closed the space between them to wordlessly press his forehead to Aymeric's. The meaning was clear enough, even in silence: _likewise._

Though he did not particularly want to, the sound of footsteps down the hall necessitated Aymeric take two steps away and turn, breaking the physical contact. 

"Your tea, my lord?" Said his manservant, making a motion down the hallway to the kitchen. 

"Thank you." Aymeric nodded twice, once to his manservant, and then to Estinien. "We will be along in a moment." 

A bow and the man was on his way.

"Very well," Aymeric said, "Estinien, you must forgive that I do not have your customary room readied," he started down the hallway towards the kitchen, "As this was a rather unexpected visit. However, am I correct in the assumption that you will not be staying the night?" 

Estinien walked at his shoulder, once pace behind, in a comfortingly familiar manner. "You would be correct. I would also appreciate it if, should the Scions ask after me, that you would speak as though we had not met." 

Aymeric stopped, a smile dancing across his lips. "A tryst, then." 

Estinien took an extra moment to ponder the word. Aymeric couldn't be certain in the dim lighting of the manor hallway, but he thought there might be something of a blush across his dearest friend's cheeks. "Mayhap it is."

There were two cups of tea in the kitchen when the two finally arrived there, made to Aymeric's preferences, though he was not accustomed to a midnight cup so much as one in the morning. Estinien did not like tea, at least not particularly, but he dutifully sipped at the drink regardless, every so often favoring the liquid in the cup with a sour expression. Aymeric had known, of course, that this would happen, but admittedly he found the entire thing rather charming. 

"I will not press you for an explanation of your presence," Aymeric said, holding his cup rather than sipping from it, simply appreciative of the warmth it radiated. "Though I am nonetheless glad you did not forget your way home."

Estinien said nothing for a moment that stretched into several. In the time before he broke the silence, Aymeric took the whole of where he stood and tucked it away somewhere close to his heart, Estinien's scowl, the still-whistling teapot, the steam from his cup and that pervasive warmth. He could not anticipate the next time he would see Estinien, but he could hold on to these few sensations to make the wait more bearable. 

At last, Estinien spoke. He said, simply: "It has been a long time." 

"Indeed," said Aymeric, placing his cup on the countertop. "Is there aught you would like during your stay, however brief? A bath, perhaps?"

Estinien gave himself a surreptitious sniff, and shrugged. 

"If you yourself do not need washing, mayhap your clothing does?" Aymeric leaned forward slightly.

Estinien folded his arms. "You seem eager to undress me."

Aymeric gave a half-smile. "I am but curious to see how well the road has treated my dearest friend."

Estinien softened, just slightly, pursing his lips. 

"If that is altogether too much to ask," Aymeric made a vague gesture, "Then I suppose the kitchen is at our disposal for conversation, and I can pour you another cup of tea to glare at instead of drinking. Or something stronger, I suppose, though one drink in the night can portend a bad habit." 

Estinien barked out a laugh. "Aye, something stronger will do, especially should you like to see me in my smallclothes ere the night is over." 

Aymeric was by no means unprepared to host guests who were fond of alcohol. Gibrillont still sold the same mulled wine he'd been fond of as a Temple Knight, and occasionally made some pretense to send a bottle or two to Borel Manor. Aymeric would return the favor one way or another, one of many political dances he stepped to. He'd been gifted other liquor, of many different shades and varieties, since being appointed Lord Commander, and the wine had not stopped flowing when he took the seat of the Lord Speaker of the House of Lords. At this point, he could not name which bottle belonged to which viscount or lord of a High House, but should he host a party every night the drink would not cease to flow for a moon or more. 

Despite the luster of an expensive bottle, Aymeric chose the former to pour for himself and Estinien. It was not as though he doubted his friend would appreciate a fancier vintage, but the nostalgic value of a taste they'd shared so long ago. Estinien had been different, then, sharper and colder around the edges, but Aymeric could not deny he'd still been fond of the terse, white-haired spearman he'd felled a dragon with far afield and afterward asked to a drink. And Aymeric would concede he had changed as well, though it was not the time to be plumbing his own depths. 

Aymeric had wondered if Estinien would recognize what he had poured for them -- Gibrillont made no pretension of consistency, though in Aymeric's experience every batch tasted more or less the same -- but his question was answered almost immediately when Estinien's eyes went wide at just the smell. He lifted his eyebrows at Aymeric.

Aymeric had considered relocating the two of them to the dining room proper, but he did not like the obligation he would feel to sit across the table from Estinien. The little distance between them now was acceptable, though he could stand to be closer. Aymeric lifted his cup in a toast, and Estinien duly obliged him, their cups clanging together (These, too, had been a gift from Gibrillont, who insisted his wine tasted best sipped from steel). 

"To reunions," said Aymeric. 

"And memories besides," Estinien said, downing his cup as though to make the point. "I'll take another round." 

Aymeric drank with a bit more reservation but indulged Estinien's request for a refill nonetheless. "As I recall, was that not a trick you learned in order to leave the bar as quickly as possible?" 

Estinien nodded, vaguely. "Aye, and the second round is because I'm not leaving just yet." 

Aymeric scoffed. "I would hope not. 'Tis the barest courtesy you could afford your late-night visit." 

And Estinien smiled, then, in just the way that Aymeric had missed. The tilt of his lips and the slight wrinkle of the corners of his steel-blue eyes, the same wryness to his features that Aymeric remembered from those long-ago days and more recently a bed in the sickroom above the Congregation of Our Knights Most Heavenly, another memory he had tenderly tucked in the hollow of his ribcage. Borel Manor was home, of course, but the feeling that came with the word was here with Estinien. 

Aymeric must have made some indication of what he was feeling, because Estinien's lips parted slightly, and his eyebrows furrowed. "Aymeric?"

Aymeric smiled back at him, waving a hand dismissively. "I am fine. I am but contemplating the distinct pleasure of your company."

Estinien stiffened. This time, Aymeric was certain he was blushing.

"Perhaps if you deigned to visit more often I would not be so overwhelmed with sentimentality on the few occasions you do," Aymeric swirled the last of his drink in the bottom of his cup before downing it, "Now, shall we see about that change of clothes?" 

With an affected sigh, Estinien complied, allowing Aymeric to shepherd him to the bedroom that was usually kept for Estinien's use, though at the moment the bed was unmade beyond a decorative sheet, and a fine layer of dust covered some few of the surfaces. Though more often than not, or at least in the times prior to Estinien's departure from Ishgard, only one bed had really been needed, and it was not in this room. Regardless, some spare clothing the baggier styles Estinien preferred did hang in the closet, and Aymeric diligently retrieved some small number of items he thought would be suitable. 

Estinien waited in the doorway of the spare bedroom, looking as though he did not particularly want to be there. Aymeric did not take long, but even so, Estinien was quick to march to the other bedroom, or rather the usual one. The bedclothes here were still strewn about from Aymeric's early hasty departure. 

With just a bit more encouragement, and a promise to send some wine with him when he went on his way, Estinien began the slow process of un-layering his clothing. There seemed far too many belts, vests, buttons, and strings to untie and unbuckle, but at last the whole of his chest and shoulders were exposed. 

Once, Aymeric had known Estinien's scars as well as he knew the etchings on Naegling's blade. He was still becoming acquainted with the scars twined with scales that spun their burn-shaped patterns from Estinien's arm and shoulder, and as Estinien disentangled himself from his shirt Aymeric could not resist reaching out to touch, ever so gently. 

The skin was warmer than he expected, and Estinien met his gaze levelly. "Not from the road."

"I know," Aymeric said, pulling back. "Does it trouble you still?"

Estinien shook his head slowly. "Not as it once did."

"Full glad am I to hear it," Aymeric let his gaze wander, down Estinien's collarbone, 'round his ribs, up again, "Will you still not give the reason for your visit?" 

"Is your company not reason enough?" Estinien spoke softly, some edge to his voice that Aymeric couldn't decipher.

"Surely there is more to it than that, Estinien. What else would account for your timing?" 

"And if there was no other reason?" 

"Well," Aymeric paused, "Then I suppose I would simply have to be grateful, and hope it proves reason enough for you to return once more when you take your leave." 

With the slightest hesitation, he kissed Estinien.


End file.
